Slave
by Cassandraishere
Summary: Desperate and out of options, Katniss Everdeen sells herself into the slave trade so that her family might survive. Bought as a bride by a terrible man, she tries to get by and survive each day with the support of a troubled and distrustful blond boy. AU, No Games, Everlark.
1. 000

**SLAVE**

slāv , _noun_

A person who is the legal property of another and is forced to obey them.

 _synonyms:_

serf, vassal, thrall;


	2. The Trade of The Desperate and Cruel

_**"Tell old Pharoh to let my people go."**_

 _ **Go Down Moses (Louis Armstrong did it flawlessly, in my opinion)**_

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 **Slave**

 **By: Cassandaishere**

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 **Chapter One: Slavery, The Trade of The Desperate and Cruel.**

 **KATNISS**

She despised trains.

She loathed them with a passion. The quick-paced mode of transportation had quickly become the bane of her existence. It was repulsive, it was a brutality, and it was a curse.

This was her first train ride ever in the twenty-two years she'd spent on this cursed excuse of a planet but it didn't change her opinion on trains though.

She sat still, a nervous ball of energy among the other girls and women who had been unfortunate enough to find themselves in her current predicament. They were all huddled close, wrapped tightly in their threadbare clothing that barely protected them from the dangerous frost that stalked across their dirty train cabin. It was foolish to feel safe amongst the huddle of her fellow slaves; their temporary unity was going to be just about as useful as a penny without value.

Their 'cabin'—if that's what it could be called—rattled loudly with a loud gush of wind sending Katniss and her comrades in a fit of shivers. Their train car was made of the same rusting tin they made roofs in the Seam; A flimsy, cheap material. And, to make it even better, parts of the walls had fallen away with the loud gushes of wind, leaving the women exposed and freezing.

"How'd you get here, Everdeen?" one on the girls asked as she rubbed together her blue fingers "Who sold you?"

Katniss sighed and scowled, apprehensive about revealing such private information. But who was she kidding? Here in the train under the cover of the night sky the chances of her living much longer were slim. Who cares about pride when death in staring you down?

Pulling at the sleeves of her father's hunting jacket in an unsuccessful attempt to protect her fingers Katniss spoke through rattling teeth "No one, I sold myself."

The girl with the blue fingers stared at her with her big brown eyes; understanding shinning from their hardened depths, Katniss recalled that her name started with a J – Jenny? Josephine? Johanna!- "That bad in Twelve too, huh?"

"You have no idea," Katniss shook her head, images of starving children, freezing temperatures, and the ever growing amount dead patients on her mothers table flashing through her minds eye.

Johanna let out a low whistle and nodded "This your first master?"

Katniss nodded "What about you?"

"Tenth time is the charm! Maybe now I can have a cell with a fucking window." Johanna spoke with justified bitterness.

"Have you ever been sold as a bride before?"

This question did not only catch Johanna's attention, but that of all the other women whom until that moment had been quietly speaking among themselves.

"That's what you were bought for?" Johanna asked with her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Katniss sighed.

"Oh, child." The old woman next to her lamented, placing a wrinkled arthritis ridden hand on her forearm, "compared to that labor is a blessing."

The train ride lasted weeks since it had to make stops at each District to retrieve slaves across the country, men and women that were weak with starvation and bending to a long list of diseases. Devastatingly, Katniss survived. There was no escaping it, no matter how hard she hoped for a disease, any disease, to take her.

At least Prim would be alright, thoughts of her sister were the only thing that kept her going.

The Capitol was worse than she could ever imagine. It was covered in colors and oddly shaped crystal buildings. Advertisements for odd products, such as tampons and music players, dotted the fields near the train as they passed. Katniss had no clue as to what any of those products were for.

The slaves around her were of every age, from twelve-year-olds to ninety-year-olds. It was overwhelming being one of them as they huddled, packed as sardines. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, everything she saw and did was actually happening, she was a slave. She'd sacrificed herself for the lives of her mother and sister. This wasn't some sort of twisted, horrible nightmare.

This was her reality now.

The words seemed to hang about her as she and the other slaves disembarked the train, as if they were another strange language. They were ushered like cattle in a roped off area as a man called out their purchase numbers, never their names.

Katniss' silver eyes sliced through the crowd of capitol citizens, all of them alien to her District Twelve bred mind. Most were frivolous in their dress, some not so much. Katniss saw purple-tinted eyes and leopard printed skin. These people were ready for a life as circus performers.

Hours went by. The man called out their purchase number and their owners stepped up to claim their slave, receipt in hand. The slave was pushed out of the roped off area and a metal bracelet was shoved onto their wrist, altered until it was impossible to remove. The mark of a slave.

Eventually it was her turn. She refused to look up at the man that came up to claim her; instead she glared at the floor. The metal was tightened painfully against her wrist before she was urged forward by the man who claimed her, his touch strangely gentle against the small of her back.

She looked up sharply, only to encounter the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Eyes flooded with an understanding he couldn't possibly feel. He was dressed normally from what she could tell; plain dark slacks and a blue button-up that made his eyes look magnificent.

"Katniss Everdeen?" he asked gently, as if afraid to startle her, his voice the audio equivalent of comfort, honey, and just _warmth_.

She nodded quickly, her eyes showing her obvious mistrust.

He lifted his arm cautiously to show her a bracelet identical to her own attached to the porcelain skin of his wrist, instantly the knots in her stomach loosened. The man before her smiled softly with a sad kind of understanding.

"I just work for the man who bought you." Katniss smiled at the tone he used for the word _work_ "I'm Peeta by the way, Peeta Mellark."

She grasped the hand he offered and shook it, a rare smile gracing her lips for half a second "Katniss Everdeen."

"I'm deeply saddened to introduce you to the Capitol," he motioned behind him towards what she assumed was the exit of the train station "it's about as bad as you think it is."

She nodded, glad for his honesty, and released a shaky breath, "Okay."

He smiled stiffly and motioned for her to follow him "Come on, the car is parked this way."

She followed him closely, horrified by the idea of actually _touching_ any of the colorful men and women near her. She saw them circle their human purchases with the critical eye of a butcher preparing to slice up a pig. Rarely did she, Katniss Everdeen, admit to such an emotion, but at that moment she fully accepted the rattling feeling of fear that twisted her insides. She was no longer the expert hunter, she was now the prey.

"What does…" Katniss paused to clear her throat, "What does Mr. Kurzmann have you working as?" she grimaced after speaking, such a difficult name to pronounce that of her _husband's_. Oh God.

Peeta guided her down a hallway to his left "We're supposed to call him Master." He corrected in that gentle tone of his she was starting to believe was his normal form of speech "but to answer your question, I'm kind of an assistant. I tell him where he needs to be; I keep his life organized and do all his work for him."

"So you basically keep his life from falling apart? Sweet deal," Katniss spoke bitterly as they neared the glass doors that spilled onto the street.

"Ha, yeah, I doubt that." His voice flooded with tension and Katniss bit her cheek hard, already regretting getting on Peeta's bad side. He may be the only other person she'd get to see apart from her _husband._ She simply couldn't afford to have him as an enemy.

Allies, she needed at least one and _fast._

Peeta held the door open for her before stalking to the right, his pace too quick for her, although the other people on the street seemed to be walking at the same speed.

"What District did you come from?" she asked randomly in an attempt at conversation while she struggled to weave through the avalanche of people coming at them.

"I was born in Twelve." He said simply.

"That's where I'm from," she offered "rainy and coal covered District Twelve."

He nodded seeming uninterested in what she had to say as they approached a group of parked cars, his eyes searching for a particular vehicle "This way," he said in a clipped tone and walked off towards a black car.

She'd never been in a car before.

She hated how intimidated she was.

Peeta looked back towards her when she didn't follow with a raised eyebrow.

"Well?" he questioned already seated behind a large wheel-like item before the large window.

"I..." she paused to study the concrete under her feet closely " _I'veneverbeeninacarbefore."_

Peeta frowned "Huh?" since she'd rushed through the last sentence she wasn't surprised that he hadn't heard her.

She looked off into the distance, hating herself for the awkward moment she was causing.

" _Oh,_ " he said after the longest minute of her life "of course you've never… here, come. Come here." He said all this while jumping out of his seat and waving her over towards the other side of the vehicle.

He opened the door for her and helped buckle her in. He smiled kindly at her before closing the door, once he slid in, closed his door and buckled himself in he shot her another smile and said "Don't worry, cars are pretty intimidating at first for everyone."

She nodded and fiddled with her thumbs "I'm not usually like this," Katniss revealed quietly.

"Well, I usually don't cry for two whole nights and punch my owner in the face," he gave threw her a meaningful look between glancing in all directions as he backed the car out. "The first time is always the hardest."

That was the least reassuring thing she'd ever heard, then again, there was nothing good about this situation.

"How many…?"

He shrugged "Oh you know, nineteen? Twenty? I'm not really counting."

She shivered; she hadn't thought that the numbers could get any higher than Johanna's.

They sat in silence for a long stretch of time as he drove the car through the colorful streets. The strange people making the knots in her stomach twisted tighter.

She would do anything for the chance to see her sister just once. Just one more time.

Prim hadn't known. She found out about her entering the slave trading business when Peacekeepers came to her doorstep. She'd had a long conversation with her mother and Gale beforehand, both had understood her decision with a great deal of pain.

After her father's death years before her mother had disappeared within herself; She'd lain for weeks in the bed she had once shared with Katniss' father wrapped in his clothes and looking through all his small, insignificant trinkets he'd left behind that were immediately priceless after his death. His shaving mirror and razor, his only dress shirt with the giant orange stain on the breast pocket, his lucky pebble that Katniss had given him as a gift as a toddler, a golden chain he'd apparently punched a guy in the face for back in his rough and dangerous teenage days.

Both Katniss and Prim had lain with their mother in those early days, smelling his lingering scent, breaking down into hysteric tears, staring into nothingness. All until one early morning before the sun had risen, when her mother had gotten up, dressed herself and her girls before leading them to the meadow to pick dandelions.

Katniss had met no greater hero.

But times were tough now, even more than those days without her father. No amount of hunting or mine shifts was ever enough. Not even when her and her best friend, Gale, would spend all of their only day and night off in the woods killing any animal they saw.

She had had no other choice but to sign up, no matter how heartbroken Prim had been the money the capitol gave them would be enough to allow their survival for a couple of years, or at least be a strong safety blanket. Hopefully Prim and her mother would be able to make a strong enough income as healers without her.

"Kurzmann isn't around," Peeta said as he hoped out of the car and went to open her door shattering her train of thought "He's out celebrating his new purchase. It's a Capitol thing." He added when he saw the look on her face.

She followed him out silently, watchful of her surroundings.

The house was the size of at least three merchant sized ones fused together. The tall structure –two? Three levels?- was made out of elegantly aged red brick with rose bushes dotted about the small walkway and an elegant black wrought iron fence. It was beautiful, a contradiction to the life that awaited her there.

Peeta walked briskly up to a plain wooden door. From what she could tell they must have been at the back of the house, if the garbage cans were any indication. She sprinted after him, already terrified to be anywhere without someone who didn't appear to be out to get her.

"This is the only doorway you may use to enter the house if Kurzmann doesn't tell you otherwise," Peeta said, already past the doorway, and not glancing towards any on the hallways on either side of the door instead opting to move straight ahead down a third hallway. "This is the entrance to the kitchen," he nodded towards a stairway that led upwards that he'd already left behind, startling her to hurry after him down a separate stairway right at the hallways end. "these stairs lead to where we sleep. You've gotten lucky; Kurzmann is so taken with you that he simply insisted on buying you a brand new cot."

She doesn't answer; instead she does her best to see where she'll take her next step since the light provided by the few candles that line some of the steps is poor at best.

Maybe she should have run away with Gale and her family when she could.

She shakes away the memory of her oldest friend's desperate tirade when he had first found out about her idea to sell herself. There is no other option that to focus on the present, she can't change the past.

She's jolted from her thoughts when Peeta halts at the foot of the stairs and she crashes right into him. He grips her elbow to steady her, releasing her the minute he's sure she can handle standing. He motions towards the dark cellar they're standing in and steps back to allow her a better view.

"This will be your home for as long as he wants you around."

She nods as her eyes search the place, turning into silver slits in an effort to see more clearly. The room is pitch black since it lacks any windows, lighting provided only by the few candles sitting on the steps behind them. Spread throughout the room is a collection of cots in varying different states of wear, and by the little she can tell small bundles of belongings. There is no flooring, only dirt or small puddles of mud.

Her only thought is that winter in this hole must be deadly.

Peeta proceeds to show her a small gap at the bottom of the far wall. He slips under it and calls for her to do the same, it's a tight fit, but she manages.

"We take turns bringing water in. But this is where you… take care of things."

The room is small, probably the size of a closet, she assumes, never having actually owned a closet. The smell is the first thing she notices, the scent of sewage powerful. She can see a drain on the floor and a collection of maybe four small basins holding water. There are three holes in the ground, from where the smell of human waste shoots out strongly. Quickly understanding comes.

"Okay," she nods, unflinching. She expected as much.

Peeta jerks his jaw towards where they came and promptly turns to lead the way and obediently she follows.

"You'll probably have the same 'chores' as the other women." Peeta begins to speak before she's even made it out of the hole. "You know, cooking, washing, cleaning, folding, organizing."

She nods.

Peeta glances at her, another one of his easy smiles pulling at his full lips, "It is… quite a lot to get used to. But you're lucky. You get a whole day to adjust, and no difficult manual labor."

She nods again, her tongue incapable of forming words.

Peeta fills his chest with a deep breath. "Alright, now come with me. I'll introduce you to the others."

He turns around abruptly, making her jump. As she struggles to keep up with his long legs she figures than most of Peeta's actions must be abrupt. Probably a side effect brought on by his 'profession'.

He leads her to the stairs that lead to the kitchen, talking about whoever is in the kitchen before they're even there.

"Greasy Sae is the cook. She's been here the longest and is basically in charge of the entire kitchen. We don't know who started calling her Greasy Sae, or why they did. We don't even know if Sae's her real name."

Katniss narrowly avoids tripping over her own feet, finding it hard to keep up with him.

"That doesn't matter though. She's a kind woman, and can make a hell of a stew." He says just as he steps through the kitchen doorway.

"You bet I can boy!" Says the jovial, rough, voice of an elderly woman, "and I've got some right here just for you and the newbie."

Peeta smiles as he allows Sae to pat his cheek. Katniss hovers awkwardly behind him.

"You really should quit hoarding food for me, Sae. If I miss a meal I miss a meal. I don't want you getting into trouble." Peeta says gently, his tone like a warm blanket. Greasy Sae appears to be having none of it.

"Sit down, boy. Eat." She waves around the wooden spoon she's holding before focusing her wrinkled eyes on Katniss. "You too. Eat up before I change my mind."

She follows Peeta's lead and sits beside him at an old wooden table. The table's surface has seen better years, with its multiple dents, scratch marks and mostly peeled off paint, but it's sturdy enough. Good strong wood.

Greasy Sae sets two bowls before them, along with two obviously roughly made spoons. She smiles at the sight. They had spoons like this in twelve, since it was all they could afford. Made out of the cheapest metal possible, the spoons tended to be very light, rough around the edges when new. These are nice and smooth.

The stew is surprisingly delicious. Filled with flavors she can't place and meat she doesn't recognize. It's hardy and filling. She wishes she could share it with Prim and her mother.

Greasy Sae works at the kitchen counter, a small mountain of chopped potatoes awaiting her manipulation. She is an older woman, probably in her late sixties. Her dark olive skin has wrinkled and abandoned most of its natural golden undertones and is instead dotted with the brown moles one earns in their golden years. It is unusual for people back in district Twelve to live much past forty. Katniss is impressed by her ability to survive.

She looks Seam. Her hair is both a dark grey and white that she keeps braided just as Katniss does. One thick cord down her back. She isn't too thin; she appears to be well-fed, but not extremely so, just enough to not have her bones poking through her skin.

Katniss decides that she likes her.

"You'll probably work here with Sae often. The kitchen could always use an extra hand." Peeta mentions while looking around the kitchen himself. "It's a huge space."

The kitchen _is_ huge. With plenty of counter space and two ovens it was probably the nicest room that slaves are allowed to spend any time in without having to be near any Capitol-people.

Dominating the wall opposite their table was a large humming ice box. She's never seen an ice box before, but she has heard of them. The machine is about as tall and wide as Peeta himself, and Peeta is one of the largest men she'd met in her lifetime.

The floors are a black-and white diamond pattern. Very worn and in some places chipped. Behind Katniss and Peeta was a single, medium-sized window. To the windows right was the doorway they'd come from and to its left two closed doors.

The day continues with Peeta showing her around the house. He shows her a series of tight hallways and rickety stairs that all lead back to kitchen from one of the mysterious doorways and can be used to access most of the house. Slaves, she's informed, aren't supposed to use the main house's hallways and doorways.

He shows her the small shed at the back of the house where all the tools are kept and introduces her to the household handy man, Thom. A man that only after shaking her hand does he realize that he's covered it in some sort of black oil. They meet Delly, Lavinia, and Portia, household maids who are busy ironing inside the tight laundry room, which is just off the kitchen stairway. Peeta tells her that she'll be spending most of her time with them, so in response Katniss tries her best to not come across as entirely hostile and unfriendly.

Just as Peeta's finished introducing her to Darius, a man that serves as some sort of waiter/servant role, a bell is rung.

"What is that?" Katniss asks no one in particular as all three of them turn towards the sound.

Peeta's shoulders drop "He's home."

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 **This story has been sitting in my documents for longer than " _Winter"_ has. Don't worry " _Winter"_ readers, " _Winter"_ is still my top priority, I just felt That " _Slave_ " deserved it's time in the sun.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the story, don't forget to review!**

 **Cassandraishere**


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